


Timely

by lindsey_grissom



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-05
Updated: 2009-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-10 13:58:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_grissom/pseuds/lindsey_grissom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little dip into Bill's mind and some of the things he sees and feels when Laura's around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timely

**Author's Note:**

> A little fic in celebration of [multicolour](http://archiveofourown.org/users/deserts/works>)'s acceptance to University.

Some days, Bill almost believes in the Gods and Pythia.

When he pulls aside the heavy curtain and finds Laura with her shirt raised, the ends tucked up over the curves of her breasts while she plays with the hook of her skirt, he sends a little prayer to whoever might listen and tries not to rustle too much.

He watches as she bites her lip in concentration and forgets to be curious.

Her tongue flits out and she catches it between her teeth before arching her back slightly, twisting her hips forward to get a better angle.

He watches the sway of her hair down her back and the soft curve of her stomach as she moves, the pale skin captivating.

It takes her five more minutes to notice him and Bill finds he has almost begun believing in Baltar.

 

//__-*-__\\\

 

There are days when Bill wishes for something more than black space and grey metal.

When he can look out a window and see green trees swaying in a calm breeze or walk through doors and feel the soft press of carpet beneath his feet.

More often he's happy to walk along the halls of his ship, head turning every time Laura's hair catches his eye, fingers brushing against the skin of her palm never really accidentally until his hand starts to settle against her back instead.

Those days, when he guides her down more corridors than he should just to keep her close and still talking, Bill's almost glad they're all trapped.

 

//__-*-__\\\

 

Every now and then Bill finds himself knocking on walls and coughing against material because the rules of courtesy tell him he shouldn't just enter uninvited even though they are rooms on his ships, in his fleet and he outranks them. Most of them.

He forgets his manners when he's angry and walks into her office without a sound, no Aide running behind him to catch up because Billy's out for lunch.

He finds her bent over the side of her chair, glasses abandoned on the desk, papers crumpling under one small hand as she scrabbles across the floor with the other. Searching for her pen, perhaps, he doesn't really care so long as she takes some time to find it.

The skirt she wears pulls tight across her and he's watched that ass sway in front of him for weeks but it's never looked like this. Never been offered up to him like a ripe fruit. He clenches his fingers into fists and hides them in his pockets so he won't try to pluck.

He's nearly content just to watch when she leans further forward, knees bent atop the chair's seat, one black shoe starting to hang precariously off her foot.

He wants it to fall, wants to see her delicate feet right here, wants to feel as her toes curl into the air, almost like they're curling against his own skin.

There's a soft click as her nails tap against her prize and she starts to right herself.

Bill backs out of the room as silently as he entered, anger gone. Later, he starts to leave his manners in Colonial One's hanger-bay and dreams of fruit.

 

//__-*-__\\\

 

Occasionally, Bill wonders what it would be like to be one of the many in the fleet.

He thinks about how he might feel to be left to himself with no one watching his every step. To have no one but himself to worry about. Living the life he can on a ship without planning every move with everyone else's future in his thoughts.

He thinks about working with his hands and watching the Vipers outside his ship and not knowing what they're doing and why but trusting someone else to keep him safe.

He thinks of only seeing Laura on the occasional screen and in the odd paper whenever one should cross his hands.

He thinks of hearing her voice, distorted by the radio speakers and no longer having it rasp rough and low against his ear, the words scribing against his skin with her breath.

He thinks of not touching her, not holding her hand when he should be shaking it, not caressing her arm when he helps her out of her Raptor, not tucking the hair behind her ear when she falls asleep on his couch after a long day.

Most of the time, when Bill wonders what it would be like to be someone else, he thinks of Cabins and red skirts and her head on his chest.

 

//__-*-__\\\

 

Never, Bill always thought, means just that.

Laura presses her hips against his and leans in against his chest and tells him that she'll meet him in his Quarters at the end of his shift, but she'll never let him frak her across the CIC table.

Bill twists his fingers into her red curls and pulls her head close until her lips are almost touching his and growls when she pushes herself backwards and shakes her head. She tells him she'll never let him take her in the Kitchens, even if they are alone and he watches her hips swing as she walks away.

He catches her hand in his and tries to snake an arm around her waist while she's distracted but she twirls aside, the move innately graceful, and swears she'll never let him fill her on the observation deck no matter how good he makes the algae taste.

She tells him he'll never get to have her in her office but he puts his hands on her shoulders and pushes her down against her desk. He presses his lips against her own and slips his tongue into her mouth when she gasps. He slides the buttons from their holes and draws the shirt down her arms, drops a kiss on her neck and runs a hand down her side.

Taking one lace covered nipple in his mouth he waits for her hum before dipping his fingers beneath her waistband and down between more lace and her skin. He pushes one leg between her thighs and feels them open wider than he needs and blows hot air against the peak he can see through the damp patch he's made at her chest.

His fingers fall further, gliding down and past the join of her hip until he feels her heat against him, slippery and ready for anything he's got. He brushes against her and watches her back arch up to meet him, body trembling and telling him it's been too long and too many nevers.

He enters her with two fingers and goes as deep as he can before he has to lean across her chest taking her lips to stop her shouts. He thrusts slowly then fast and curls inside of her to press against the spot that makes her scream. Her hands cling to the edge of the desk near her head and he admires the lines of her body stretched out just for him, the fan of her hair across the wood before it topples over the side. He pulls out and presses in with one more finger and finds her clit with his thumb, waiting until she's taut as a bow, her whimpers vibrating along his tongue before rubbing in circles and taking her straight over the edge.

Never, Laura teaches Bill, can often mean something else entirely.

 

//__-*-__\\\

 

Some days Bill prays to things he doesn't believe in to keep the only thing he does.

And there are days when he doesn't know if he's even awake because seeing her makes everything around him seem changed.

Every now and then he abandons every rule he's ever known and finds there's something better than respect in her eyes.

Occasionally he pretends his life is different so he can hold her close in his arms and promise her things will work out right and he'll keep her safe no matter what might come.

And when Laura pushes him against the hatch and rips the uniform from his body he makes sure to never say no.


End file.
